


People die if they are killed

by Comedia



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Death, Fluff, Graphic deaths, Hanzo Has Issues, Humor, M/M, McCree dies A LOT, Respawn Mechanics, Violence, but it’s potentially cute too, in a fucked up way, this is very fucked up and not at all a healthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 05:32:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9164314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comedia/pseuds/Comedia
Summary: Hanzo may wish atonement for killing his brother, but that doesn’t mean he won’t rely on murder to solve most of his problems.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I mean, just the title alone kinda implies what a shitpost this fic is. Also, did I mention that this is seriously fucked up?

It is during lunch that Hanzo stabs Jesse McCree through the eye with a butter knife. He has been with Overwatch for little more than a month, and only just started spending some time in the common areas. The resident cowboy thought it was a good idea to sit down next to him, say “fancy seeing you here” and outright wink at him. Truly, objectively, there was not much else Hanzo could do but reach for the knife.

The room is silent - except Hanzo could swear he hears a garbled chuckle escape Soldier 76. They are all staring at him; Oxton; Winston; Song; the DJ; Ziegler; each somewhere between disgusted and speechless.

Before anyone has the opportunity to react to the dead body that’s now slumped over the table, Genji is by Hanzo’s side, metal hand resting softly on his bare shoulder.

“You have to forgive my brother. He does these things.”

His words are enough to snap the rest of the team out of it. Oxton is the first to burst, jumping up from where she’s sitting and slamming her hands on the table. “WE KNOW, GENJI!”

Winston chimes in, his voice surprisingly meek. “That’s why we didn’t want… we were hesitant to have him to join.”

“This is fine. Mercy can fix it.” It’s unclear if Genji is dismissing their complaints, or if the high pitched hissing of steam being expelled from his vents is incidental.

“It’s not fine! There’s blood and brain-goo where I eat my breakfast!” Hana points dramatically at where McCree lies sprawled, face down on his huge serving of bangers and mash.

Before the situation can get more out of hand, Angela clears her throat. Without much ado she walks up to the dead cowboy and places a hand on his neck. Her examination takes less than a minute - the diagnosis is quite obvious to anyone who’s witnessed the incident. With a flick of her fingers she brings the cowboy back from death, his form brighter than the sun as he rises from the table with a groan.

For a moment he rolls his shoulders, stretches his limbs and takes a few deep breaths. Then he turns to Hanzo, eyes bright, mouth curved into a wicked grin. “Jeez Legolas, how ‘bout you warn a guy next time.”

“NO NEXT TIME!” Oxton is shouting loudly enough that her accent is barely noticeable.

 

* * *

 

They’re on a mission when Hanzo pushes Jesse McCree off a building and watches him splatter on the pavement far below. Talon has retreated from the area, and Hanzo has just unleashed his dragons to deal with any stragglers. For a change McCree had joined him at his vantage point above the battlefield, and it must have been the first time the cowboy witnessed the spirits up close. He found it wise to react to the display by sweeping Hanzo up in his arms, laughing and shouting “t’was epic, partner!”  
Heart beating fast, his skin cold from sweat, still coming off the high of unleashing the dragons… putting his palms against McCree’s chest and giving him a determined push was clearly the most rational thing to do. Had he not put an end to it, he may have interpreted McCree’s actions in a _different light_ . And those bright, brown eyes might have driven him to _act_.

Hanzo feels no shame as he raises his hand to his ear, tapping into their communication line. “McCree is down. Mercy, I need your immediate assistance.”

Doctor Ziegler responds quickly, and informs him that she is making her way to him. Meanwhile chatter breaks out on the line, and soon enough the team starts peppering him with questions.

“How did they get to him? I thought Talon had cleared out.”  Hana’s voice is hesitant, as if she already knows the answer.

“They have. I pushed him off a building.”

If he thought the team was loud before, it’s nothing compared to the cacophony of complaints that erupts at his statement. He’s not even attempting to reply to any of the questions or accusations that are being hurled in his general direction, and when the Scientist suddenly interrupts the noise with a series of loud roars Hanzo more than welcomes it.

Lena’s chipper voice is suddenly tinged with worry as she speaks up. “Winston! Are yah engaging hostiles?”

There’s a moment of silence, and then Genji replies, his voice as steady and collected as always. “No, he’s just angry.”

Not soon afterwards, Mercy arrives, and Hanzo has a good enough excuse to shut off the comm line. Her examination takes less than a minute, but she levels Hanzo with a glare before she raises her staff and reanimates McCree’s lifeless body.

The cowboy shakes his head, puts his hat back on his head, and beams at Hanzo - his face still stained with blood and dirt.

“Boy howdy, y’sure know how’ta sweep a man off his feet.” His smile is sweet enough to have the archer’s heart skip a beat. Hanzo plants an arrow between those warm eyes before the cowboy gets the chance to spout any more nonsense. The good Doctor actually slaps him at that, and unleashes a string of curses so vile Hanzo almost feels the need to cover his ears. Before initiating the next reanimation, Mercy forces him to surrender his bow.

 

* * *

 

On the day Hanzo holds Jesse McCree down in the ocean until his final breath bubbles to the surface, the sun is bright, the sea is calm, and the breeze is pleasant. It was the good Doctor’s suggestion that the team take a day off and relax. Obviously this relaxation had to happen on a beach. Obviously the resident cowboy would show up in swimming trunks that hung low on his hips, his tan skin exposed. Obviously he would lay down in front of Hanzo after swimming, water droplets like sparkling crystals in his chest hair. Obviously he would convince the archer to join him in the water. Obviously he would instigate a water fight so furious it had them both laughing, out of breath, clinging to each other, bodies flush… and Hanzo could not do much but weigh him down until he was completely submerged. Hold him there until the laughter drained, the heat faded from his eyes, and the tension was washed away with the current.

Before he alerts his team mates to this turn of events, Hanzo needs a moment to catch his breath. To ground himself. Afterwards he doesn’t have the time to look around for Mercy, as she’s right by his side, staring disapprovingly at McCree’s motionless body.

“The second you started laughing, I knew this would happen.” Her hands trail the dead cowboy for a moment, and she doesn’t seem in a rush to aid him. Instead she turns to Hanzo, her blue eyes piercing. “I’m not sure why you do this, but you clearly… it’s something deep-rooted within you. If you need help to work through something from your past, if there’s something you’ve repressed, let me know?”

Hanzo stares at her. He cannot for the life of him understand why she thinks his actions could be caused by a psychological issue. This should not be such a mystery to her nor the team - they are in the same line of work, after all.

“Murder solves everything.”

“What?” Her voice is flat, her expression blank.

“It is the most effective route to neutralize a situation.” He shrugs while he speaks, not really sure why he has to explain this to a professional.

“Gott im himmel.” Mercy does not seem impressed with his explanation. In fact, she puts a palm to her face, and she seemingly needs a smaller eternity to school her expression before she turns back to the cowboy. The reanimation is started momentarily, and soon enough McCree is standing next to Hanzo, coughing up an impressive amount of ocean water.

Hanzo is not exactly sure what he should do, but he does not have the opportunity to say anything before he’s swept up in strong arms. McCree’s skin is still a few degrees cooler than usual - death still clinging to him - but his breath is hot as it ghosts across Hanzo’s face. The last thing Hanzo sees before he allows his eyes to fall shut is the twinkle of those brown eyes.

Jesse’s beard is harshened by the water, his lips are dry and taste of salt. He kisses like his life depended on it - and truly, it does. When Hanzo returns the kiss he can’t help but feel like he’s drowning. Drowning in the taste of tobacco, malt and sun kissed earth that is Jesse McCree.

As they part, the cowboy’s lips twist into a grin. His voice is raw, husky as he speaks. “You take my breath away, dragon-boy.”

McCree dives in for another kiss before Hanzo has the opportunity to throw him back beneath the ocean waves.

 

* * *

 

Late one autumn night, Jesse McCree does not struggle as Hanzo holds a pillow over his face until his body goes limp. They have been doing this _thing_ for a few months. Sharing _moments_. Kissing in private, sometimes in public. McCree ambushing him during breakfast, lunch, dinner; leaning down with a crooked smile and twinkling eyes. It’s been long enough that Hanzo only finds homeliness in the soft press of those lips.

He had finally agreed to spend the night with the cowboy, not really expecting how stressful of an experience it would be. They had spent hours in each-other’s arms; hands roaming; slowly undressing; breaths heavy… and suddenly Hanzo had been down to his underwear, Jesse resting a cheek on his hipbone, those brown eyes pinning the archer to the bed. Fingers trailing the inside of Hanzo’s thigh, he had whispered, his voice husky, “I want to see you”. So Hanzo reached for the nearest pillow, and as he pressed it down over McCree’s unsurprised face, he felt the heat that had pooled in the pit of his stomach slowly ease and cool.

3 AM in the morning Hanzo finds himself carrying his lifeless friend? Lover? Date? Fuck buddy? Partner? through the empty corridors of the Overwatch base. He cradles Jesse to his chest as he briskly finds his way to Mercy’s room. The air is cool, and the hairs on his arms rise with every shiver. Perhaps he should have bothered to put clothes on, but he was in too much of a hurry to care.

Once he knocks on Angela’s door not much time passes before she rips it open. Eyes red and bleary, a robe loosely tied at her waist. “What?”

Hanzo is not sure what kind of midnight visits she normally gets - with her obvious frustration he imagines that more than one team member has come by asking for condoms at unseemingly hours - but it’s clear that she needs a moment to realize the gravity of the situation. As she takes in the body Hanzo holds a bit too tightly in his arms, her eyes widen.

“What happ…” Her gaze wanders over his mostly naked form, and she falls silent. When she speaks up again her voice is tired. “There are scratches on your chest and I spot multiple hickies. I do not want to know. Just get in here.”

Hanzo places the lifeless body on Angela’s bed, and then takes a step back. There’s unease in his chest, a knot in his throat, but he tries not to worry too much. This whole process is familiar by now, but the implications have changed.

Angela quickly wraps up her examination of McCree, and turns to Hanzo with a wry smile. “At least you’re creative. I don’t think you’ve killed him in the same manner twice.”

Hanzo ignores the blush rising on his cheeks, and keeps his gaze on her. With a sigh and pointed _look_ in his general direction, she sets about bringing the cowboy back to life. It’s a short an undramatic process, but as Jesse’s chest rises with breath again Hanzo can’t help but take a few steps closer.

Those brown eyes immediately find him, and a smile spreads on lips still swollen from kissing. There’s something so beautiful about Jesse like this, spread out, disheveled, and when a big, calloused hand reaches out to pull Hanzo close he comes willingly. Except their reunion is interrupted by a loud shout - something in german that Hanzo does not know the meaning of, but it’s said with enough force that he doesn’t dare protest.

“Jesse McCree, you will not consummate this unholy union in my bed. Get out.”

Only after Angela speaks does it seem like McCree realizes where he is. He needs a moment to take in his surroundings, and once he realizes that he’s in a different bed, in a different room, he bursts out laughing. “Sorry Doc. Think this poor fella misunderstood when I suggested playin’ nurse.”

Angela, professional that she is, steps between them before Hanzo can launch for McCree and wipe that shiteating grin off his face.

 

* * *

 

The Overwatch team is much too exhausted to react when the remains of Jesse McCree is splattered all over their armor, their faces, their shuttle. They'd just returned from a mission, and it had not been the cleanest ordeal. The hours dragging on, the enemy not letting up; when they had finally neutralized the threat everyone was exhausted, pained with more or less severe injuries, and could not gather in the shuttle quickly enough. Hanzo had been to preoccupied by his racing pulse to pay much attention to the others. There had been many close calls, too many to count, and more than once did he find himself wide-eyed, breathless, as he watched McCree on the battlefield.

The man was - _is_ \- unbelieveable. Larger than life in anything he does. Too ridiculous to take seriously; to deadly disregard. Hanzo had watched him covered in mud and sweat, the grin never quite leaving his lips even in the face of absolute exhaustion, and suddenly he’d come to a realization. After months of stolen glances, heated moments confined to their quarters and the occasional strangulation attempt on Hanzo’s part, they’d ended up here. With a camaraderie and a level of intimacy that just couldn’t be ignored anymore.

The cowboy had not only wormed his way into Hanzo’s sights; his bed; his life. The twinkle in his eyes made something wild twist in Hanzo’s heart. Made the dragons stir in anticipation.

And as if the situation couldn’t get any worse, it had started to snow. Soft, silent flakes, embracing the base with a glittering coat. Jesse had - of course, because he’s a puppy trapped in the body of a grown man - thrown his head back and caught a few snowflakes on his tongue.

Before losing his resolve, Hanzo had approached the cowboy. Grabbed him by the hem of his shirt and kissed him, slowly and chastely. And then he’d finally said the words - those three words that’d been playing at the edge of his thoughts for so long.

“I love you, Jesse McCree.”

He’d held the cowboy close long enough to see those brown eyes light up with excitement. Long enough to feel Jesse's breath hitch and see him start to form a reply. And then Hanzo had pushed his love straight into the jet engine of the shuttle, the finely ground remains spraying across the snow covered ground; the base; the team. It was for the best. No matter what Jesse would’ve said in return, Hanzo was not ready to hear it.

Mercy approaches him in silence. She levels him with a glare and wipes some stains of McCree-goo off her face. And then she begins the resurrection without a word. There is disappointment and resentment in her every move.

When Jesse’s body has finally regained its form, and the cowboy launches at Hanzo with a “love you too, sweetie-pie”, Mercy punches Hanzo square in the jaw before he has the chance to do an encore of the whole engine-thing. He’s left on his back in the snow, nose bleeding, Jesse sitting by his side and grinning wide enough to outshine the sun.

 

* * *

 

There are no witnesses when Hanzo throws a toaster in Jesse’s bath, and watches him twitch until the light in his eyes go out. It had been a normal day. No emergencies, no missions. They had spent it in Hanzo’s apartment, “chilling” as the young ones might call it. After spending a quite heated night together, Hanzo had been in the kitchen, preparing something breakfast-like, even though it’d been late in the afternoon. He had left Jesse in bed, thinking he deserved the rest. But sometime later, the cowboy had apparently made his way to the bathroom. Hanzo heard him before he saw him; raspy voice humming some American song, his tone equally steady and nostalgic.

Hanzo had been drawn to the singing. The careless happiness of it. Why he picked up the toaster before peaking into the room, he can’t tell. Perhaps he knew what was about to transpire. Next thing he knew, he’d been standing in the door opening, speechless. Watching Jesse sprawled out in the tub, a lazy smile on his face, still humming nonsense words to himself.

“Would you… would you like to move in with me?” The words had just kind of bubbled out of Hanzo; his voice hitched, his body tense and lacking the control with which he would normally hold himself.

And Jesse had just kind of twitched beneath the water, gripping the edges of the tub to hold himself up.

“Yes! Dear-heavens-fuck-me-sideways _yes!_ ”

And faced with such excitement, with such devotion, Hanzo’s heart had just kind of… stopped. For a moment. And then Jesse’s heart stopped because of all the electricity.

In order to get Angela to the apartment fast enough, Hanzo uses the emergency comm-line. Part of him feels a bit shameful about the entire ordeal. Another part feels nothing but glee. When Mercy knocks on the door five minutes later, she actually greets him with a neautral expression.

"It's been four months, Mr. Shimada." She says it slowly, deliberately. "I didn't think I would say this, but I'm proud of you. Whatever this is, it's getting better."

Hanzo doesn't reply, and simply leads her to the bathroom. If he speaks, he might say something inappropriate. He might even voice the excitement and happiness that's fluttering within his chest. So he simply watches her reanimate his lover - his breath hitching as Jesse's form is enveloped by warm light. Hanzo has never known anything this beautiful before.

 

* * *

 

It is a plain, ordinary morning when Hanzo doesn’t murder Jesse. Not even a little. They have lived together for half a year or so, and except the occasional homicide, their relationship is so steady and solid that it’s almost uneventful. Hanzo has never been involved in something so… un-dramatic. Nothing phases them. Not even when Hanzo panics on their anniversary and pushes McCree out a ten story window. Or when Jesse makes him blush, and Hanzo scorches his face off with the dragons. Or when Jesse makes him breakfast in bed, and Hanzo’s heart swells to the point where he just kind of has to drown the cowboy in the cereal bowl.

This morning is not extraordinary. He wakes up naturally - no alarm. No panicked call from Overwatch. And Jesse is still fast asleep next to him. Curled up around Hanzo, one hand resting on his hips, the gesture equally possessive and innocent in its simplicity.

Hanzo turns quietly, carefully, the way he would sneak up on an enemy. Sun rays shine through the bedroom blinds, trailing Jesse’s already golden skin. Caressing every scar. Illuminating his brown curls. Framing him with a heavenly glow.

And Hanzo’s heart skips a beat. And he swallows thickly - repeatedly. It’s such a simple moment. So common. It is almost embarrassing that something like this could leave him speechless. Disarmed. Yet, here he is. His mind racing, his fingers twitching. Part of him wants an _out_. Wants to bring a bloody and sudden end to the tightness of his chest, the racing of his pulse. But instead of gouging Jesse’s eyes out, he reaches out - slowly, deliberately - and then pulls the cowboy close to his chest. Even like this; lazy; sleepy; there’s fire beneath his skin the second they touch. Something has changed, and nothing has changed. But perhaps, Hanzo thinks, there will be no need for murders in the future.

 

* * *

 

**_Epilogue_ **

A few years pass. It is early in the morning, and the air is soft and welcoming; still cold, but it has lost the bite of winter. There’s something tranquil about spring, and it is Hanzo’s favorite time of the year. However, it is a calm morning. No missions. No tragedies. And yet he awakes alone. Worry stirs in his chest, and despite himself he searches the apartment, looking for any clues as to where Jesse might have run off to.

In the kitchen he finds a hastily scribbled note.

_Meet me beneath the cherry blossoms._

Hanzo rolls his eyes. He has no idea what is going on, but the cowboy has always had a thing for the dramatic. So he gets dressed, but doesn’t put much thought into his appearance. Yesterday’s shirt, plain pants, his hair pulled into a loose ponytail. And then he heads to the park nearby, knowing exactly what Jesse’s referring to. Ever since Hanzo mentioned his appreciation for sakura in passing, they’ve spent many days of spring walking beneath the pastel trees.

Soon enough he catches sight of McCree.

As he approaches, he notices that Jesse is accompanied by Angela. She’s standing close by his side, and despite her general disapproval of their relationship, there’s something different about her. She looks at Hanzo with soft, knowing eyes.

“What is this?” Hanzo asks, approaching them hesitantly. “Why is Mercy here?”

Jesse smiles then, brilliant; bright; the crows feet at the corner of his eyes deepening. When Hanzo gets close enough, McCree takes his hands and holds them gently.

“Angela’s here ‘cause I havt’a ask you somethin’, and you ain’t got a good track-record with these here things.”

“What _things_?” Hanzo asks, but he gets no immediate reply. Instead Jesse gets down on one knee, his demeanor much more subdued and hesitant than normal. As he reaches into the pocket of his plaid shirt and fumbles hopelessly while attempting to get the ring out, Hanzo realizes that some part of Jesse still doesn’t believe in this. That some part of him fears that Hanzo will say “no”.

So he falls to his knees, his hands on Jesse’s shoulders, fingers dangerously close to tighten their grip around the cowboy’s throat. Because he is tempted. This moment is overwhelming, in so many ways. It would be so easy to end it; to get a restart; to remove some of the tension. But the implication - the hands so close to crushing his windpipe - seems enough to comfort Jesse.

“That a _‘yes’_ , dragon boy?”  
  
Hanzo cannot do anything but nod, and then he tightens his grip, just a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write short things on [tumblr](http://comediakaidanovsky.tumblr.com/) as well (but mostly I just cry about fictional characters).


End file.
